


An Epiphany of Character

by Dunuelos



Category: due South
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2020-09-08 03:02:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20289676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dunuelos/pseuds/Dunuelos
Summary: Meg Thatcher has a startling epiphany after Fraser loses his memory in Due South Ep 2x18. This results in her making a decision as to a new path.





	An Epiphany of Character

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Fort Liard](https://archiveofourown.org/works/840270) by [Rachel Smith Cobleigh (reveilles)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reveilles/pseuds/Rachel%20Smith%20Cobleigh). 

> Just recently, after my one shot on another thread, I rewatched Due South (only available and not fully on youtube). (Due to copyrighting issues many song sections are muted or overly compressed which is a tragedy – there's a lot of good music there.) Airing originally before the age of fanfiction (which really took off 2001 or so) there are far fewer stories written for this fandom. But I truly loved the show.
> 
> However, in reading another fanfic I thought that the characters in the last chapter showed a remarkable insight, often avoided in the show for comedic effect. It gives a very stark explanation for the main character's intensely strict adherence to his mannerisms which is surprisingly manipulative vs. the "nice guy" image normally portrayed in the show.
> 
> This led to a particular scene from the show catching my attention. For those unfamiliar, during one of his heroic moves in attempting to stop a kidnapping, Fraser suffers a knock on his head and has memory loss of who and what he is. Eventually his memory comes back and he returns to normal.
> 
> My small bunny is of what could have happened later.

Inspector Margaret "Meg" Thatcher sat at her desk contemplating her Deputy Liaison Officer's recent loss of memory.

Her heart had clenched quite harshly when she realized that her annoyingly well-built, handsome and polite subordinate had not remembered their kiss on top of the train which had been speeding toward destruction.

She had grieved intensely when she thought him dead. Far more intensely than she would ever admit to anyone. In the face of the threat they had been under, she had pushed it down. But that emotional intensity had finally come out and the two had exchanged much passion in a very short time.

Afterward, her embarrassment in losing control had led to her ordering Fraser to forget the experience and that it could only happen again if they were in the exact same circumstances: On a runaway train, taken over by terrorists, heading toward nuclear meltdown.

A virtually impossible circumstance. (Her mind shied away from a the momentary fanciful thought of the Bolt brothers breaking out of prison, thus allowing them to try again. Those two were lunatics and much better incarcerated than in a position to threaten anyone else.)

She was quite aware of the fact that she was a woman with needs. And despite his strict adherence to propriety and to the idealized image of a Royal Canadian Mounted Policeman, Fraser was a man who also had the same emotional and physical imperatives that all men had.

And so when she had been confronted with a man who had lost those impeccable mannerisms and who did not remember sharing that intense connection, it had been painful.

His loss of memory had laid him bare, and while he still was polite he didn't have those things which both enticed her and drove her crazy simultaneously. Stripped of that, he ….

Suddenly, Meg Thatcher had a startling realization. As she contemplated the ramifications of that sudden intuitive leap, her eyes narrowed in mixed annoyance and admiration. A tight smirk appeared on her face as she worked through the various permutations.

At the end of her thought processes on the matter, she was thoroughly annoyed and admiring of her immediate subordinate in an entirely new way. In a moment of self-examination, she contemplated exactly what she should do in light of what she now knew.

She was a woman with ambition and drive. She had sacrificed much to get where she was and had religiously and with great force had maintained an impeccable image with her peers, superiors, and subordinates. Much had been subsumed by her ambition. But now, a new direction had opened for her.

She had to decide if she was willing to do what would be required to achieve something that she now felt was worth it.

And after a bit of contemplation, she made her decision.

First she had to make certain of a few things.

* * *

Ray Vecchio waited outside of the Canadian Consulate for his friend/partner, Benton Fraser. Benny had asked him for a favor and so here he was.

As the back door opened to allow the wolf to enter, he looked over. "Where we goin?" he asked.

As the impeccably uniformed man sat down and closed the door he answered, "Inspector Thatcher has ordered me to receive a checkup."

"What's got the Dragon Lady in a huff now?" Ray asked with some annoyance. "You're fine, back to normal – well as normal as you ever are." The last was said with some amused derision. Ray did love to needle the man.

Fraser, in his normal manner, gave a precise explanation. "Well, the fact that I suffered a loss of memory requires that I pass a physical fitness test. She has insisted that I be certified as fully recovered."

Ray rolled his eyes. "Sounds like a whole lot of extra work for nothing."

Fraser paused as he considered how to respond. "Well, yes. It does seem entirely like make work. But the regulations are very clear on the matter …." As he talked, Ray blocked out the extra verbage as he often did when the Mountie started talking about procedure and propriety.

Ray loved his friend, but he did tend to go on about things he had no real concern about.

It took a bit of time, but finally Benny appeared at the door leading from the examination rooms in the local clinic. "All set?" he asked as the two left the premises.

"Yes." Fraser then paused and then added. "Well, at least on a provisionary basis."

"What does that _mean_?" Ray asked with his normal annoyance.

Fraser went on the explain, "Well, while the doctor was quite pleased with my progress he did note that my memory loss was due to a concussion suffered following blunt force trauma to the head. And while it seems that there are no lasting effects, it has only been four days since the incident. Standard recovery for a concussion is 7 to 10 days. He will not certify that I am fully recovered until at least that minimum amount of time has passes without any lingering effects. So I will have to return next Tuesday – assuming that nothing happens between then and now."

Ray was about to ask, "What could possibly happen in four days?", but then he remembered that he was talking to a man with a hero complex. So instead he sighed. "Okay, then. When is the next appointment?"

"As I said, next Tuesday."

"What _time_?" Ray whined.

"Precisely 4:15 post meridian," Fraser answered with equanimity.

Ray rolled his eyes but answered, "I'll pick you up at 4:00."

"Thank you kindly."

* * *

Inspector Thatcher kept her face blank and attentive as Constable Fraser stood stiffly in a pose of "parade rest" in front of her desk.

"As you can see from Dr. Sampson's report, while there seems to be no lingering effects, he cannot fully certify my fitness until the requisite time has passed."

Meg noted the suppressed nervousness as he made his report. Since her epiphany, she had paid much more attention to the minute details she normally ignored. Such intense scrutiny tended to make subordinates nervous when they noticed it occurring. And Benton Fraser was an expert at observation, second to none.

It amused her a bit to watch.

"Very well. I look forward to the final report following your appointment on Tuesday," she answered in her strictly proper manner.

"Is there anything else you require, Inspector?" Fraser asked.

"No. According to regulation, you are required to stay on desk duty until fully certified. Considering that it is Friday, and that there are no duties requiring you this weekend, you will ensure that Constable Turnbull is apprised that he will be standing the guard on those two days."

Since being assigned, Constable Renfield Turnball was the low man on the totem pole and so often did the drudge work that she had originally assigned Fraser to assert her dominance and attempt to force him to request a transfer. As such, standing the full guard without relief from Fraser was not something that he was inexperienced with.

"Understood."

"Dismissed," she said casually.

Once he left, she sat back and contemplated her next action. Until she had proper certification as to his health, she refused to move further on her plan. This was not so much to protect her but to use against him.

She wanted there to be no avenues of escape for him once she had him where she wanted him.

* * *

Inspector Thatcher waited late on Tuesday night for her subordinate to return.

When he appeared back in the consulate, she wordlessly accepted the paper he had. As expected, the report from the doctor which certified that Constable Benton Fraser was fully recovered from his injury and that there was no reason for him not to be fully fit for any duty.

"Very good, Constable." She noted that Ray Vecchio was waiting. Before the man could acknowledge and exit she continued speaking. "You are dismissed. You may enjoy your evening. I believe that you eat dinner with the Vecchios on Tuesday night."

"Yes. Mrs. Vecchio has provided a standing invitation which I have found quite acceptable and pleasant to accept. She often serves her lasagna, which is quite good."

"I am certain it is," Meg answered. "Carry on."

Fraser nodded and quickly retreated as though in fear. Meg smirked. She now knew better.

The next morning, she found a handwritten note on top of the paperwork which she normally handled first thing in the morning. After ensuring that her door was closed, she put her reading glasses on and looked down at it.

_Inspector Thatcher_

_Pursuant to our farewell of last night, I took the liberty of obtaining from Mrs. Vecchio a portion of the leftovers of her lasagna which you will find enclosed in a sealed Tupperware container within a brown paper bag in the refrigerator in the break room. Upon this bag you will find your name written, indicating that it is for you._

_Mrs. Vecchio expressed her appreciation in your confidence in her culinary skills that I conveyed to her when I requested a portion of the normal leftovers be set aside for me to bring back to the consulate for your inspection and enjoyment._

_Mrs. Vecchio also expressed her willingness to continue to set aside a portion for you to enjoy should you request it. I can assure you that this will prove no inconvenience for her to provide nor for me to deliver as she regularly cooks much more than could possibly be consumed within a single meal at her family table._

_With Best Regards,_

_Constable Benton Fraser, RCMP_

Meg Thatcher found that she was looking forward to lunchtime far more than normal once she had read the note. And when she found the leftovers as described, she wondered if Mrs. Vecchio was trying to fatten her up.

It was a large Tupperware container, after all.

* * *

At 1:15, there was a knock on her door. She calmly listened to his daily report. After he had indicated he was finished, she spoke. "However, there is one added item." Fraser gave his normally focused attention to her. "I ask that you return at 5:00 to my office for a matter I wish to discuss then."

Casually deflecting any explanation or further talk of the matter, she quickly ensured that Fraser left to do his required duties.

At precisely 5:00, there was another knock on her door. She looked up to the open door as she finished packing up for the day. "You asked me to speak to you at 5:00," Fraser said/asked in his precise manner.

"Yes. Question. What plans do you have for this weekend beyond your assigned duties?"

"Plans, Sir?" he asked in his annoyingly proper manner.

"Yes. From 5:00 PM on Friday to 8:00 AM when the new week begins, what do you plan on doing? I wish to know what activities you are currently scheduled for outside of the consulate, considering that there are no scheduled diplomatic activities this weekend."

Fraser was taken aback, though he tried to hide it. "While I do not any set activities specifically scheduled, I will likely …."

She immediately interrupted the long-winded explanation before it could begin by raising her hand. "That's fine. That is what I was asking about – what plans you have scheduled. And considering that you have no set plans yet, I wish to ask you to visit my residence at 7:00 on Friday night. I wish to have an uninterrupted discussion and wanted to ensure that I was not interfering with your normal activities. I will provide dinner. You may bring what you wish but nothing is required. Dress casually. This is not a consulate matter."

In his normal earnest manner Fraser asked, "Is there a problem? If there is something that requires uninterrupted discourse, I hope that I have committed no actions which have caused difficulty." Before he could go on and on, she once again raised her hand to interrupt.

She was feeling quite self-confident and the normal nervousness which she hid was absent from her bearing. Fraser likely noted the small change and she was amused that her nervousness had transferred to him.

"No. It is a discussion which I would like to have, but there are no immediate concerns. But it is a private matter and I ask that you keep it private. I am certain that the matter will be sufficiently clarified at that time." She paused and then finished. "And feel free to bring your wolf."

"I see." She could see the moment he decided to just accept it. "Is that all, Inspector?"

* * *

It was Friday at 5:00. As she made her way out of her office, she took the chance to nod at Constable Fraser in such a manner to indicate that she had not changed her plans and that he was expected in two hours.

And, as expected, Constable Fraser returned the nod in such a manner as to convey his understanding and acceptance.

She expertly navigated the normal Friday traffic and arrived at her home, as expected, at 5:30. By 6:00, she had refreshed herself and had dressed herself in a deliberately casual manner. Her proper and strict image was maintained by ensuring that she was dressed impeccably at all times. Only at home did she allow herself to eschew that proper exterior and relax with a less prim image.

She had, however, ensured that there was just enough makeup on her face to ensure that her femininity could not be questioned. As she looked at herself in the mirror, he inspected the results of her efforts and was quite satisfied in the image it portrayed: Confident vulnerability.

She quickly moved to her kitchen and removed the tray from where she had stored it. She had been warned to allow it to be room temperature before cooking and so she had taken it out of the refrigerator as soon as she walked in the door.

Having had over a week to plan the meal, she ensured that she followed her planned cooking schedule over the next hour to ensure that it was ready to be eaten immediately after 7:00.

Benton Fraser was nothing if not prompt.

* * *

Precisely at 6:59, she ensured that she was in the front room. As expected, the doorbell rang as the clock chimed 7:00.

She casually moved to the door and opened it. Seeing Fraser, she was pleased that he had followed directions. He was dressed in demin jeans, running shoes, and a flannel shirt. Even as she opened the door she caught him checking out her own attire.

Contrary to his own expectations, she was dressed almost as casually as he was. Demin, low heeled shoes (she was a woman) and a loose, buttoned shirt which was, nevertheless in its type, quite attractively cut for her shape.

Feminine and casual, all at once.

"Come in, Benton and Diefenbaker."

Even as he walked in the door he said querulously, "Sir?"

She gave a small smile as she closed the door behind him. "Not tonight. Tonight we will use proper names – or acceptable diminutives." She paused as he looked back at her. "I was never overly fond of being called Margaret – it seemed the type of name more appropriate for an old aunt. I have always preferred Meg." She looked at him directly and asked, "Do you prefer Ben … or Benton?"

He answered as expected ("Eeither is quite fine, whatever you feel comfortable with.") but she had been watching and he seemed more relaxed at Ben.

"Very well. I hope that you are sufficiently hungry. Dinner is this way," she motioned toward the kitchen as she talked.

Rather than set up a formal setting in the dining room, she had deliberately used the smaller table in the kitchen. It was more personable and seemed more suited to his personality.

As they walked Ben said, "It smells wonderful." There was a tone of wonder in his voice.

She smiled as they walked down the hall. "What do you smell?"

He paused at the question and considered that carefully. "I smell …" his face lost that considering look and relaxed into knowledge, "venison steaks and roast vegetables. I also detect a berry of some type, making me assume that it is part of a dessert."

"What kind of berry?" she asked, curious as to his response.

He looked incredibly reticent but finally answered, "While it smells very similar to blueberry, the aroma more closely approximates Saskatoon berries."

She smiled. "You have a very good nose, as I am certain you are aware."

His eyes widened slightly. "You have a Saskatoon berry dessert?"

She grinned. "While it was somewhat difficult to obtain the ingredients, I was able to parlay at least some small part of my position's influence to bring a few items to Chicago that would otherwise be very difficult to obtain." She paused and then said, "So don't expect repeats of this very often."

With enthusiasm, Fraser made his way into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She quickly served up the meal, ensuring that a bowl filled with venison meat and tallow was included for the wolf. Diefenbaker wasted no time in beginning.

Ben looked at the wolf eating his dinner for a long moment before looking at her. "Sir." She gave him an admonishing look. "Meg." She smiled. "Where did you find venison and tallow? This is not the meal I expected when invited to your home."

She motioned him to begin eating, even as she began serving herself. "Well, I wanted to have a personal discussion and I wanted you comfortable for it. And while we often provide lavish meals for guests and dignitaries, I thought that you might wish for foods that you might like but are unable to find normally in Chicago. Thus my efforts to obtain and serve foods that are more normally found in the areas far less urban than the city of Chicago."

Despite his normal stiff adherence to proper manners, he could not hide his delight in her effort to bring him a meal he would enjoy. And, she noted, enjoy it he did. He savored the butter-cooked venison steak as well as the simply cooked and seasoned vegetables.

She had deliberately used spices that he had mentioned in conversations with Turnbull that she had overheard. Trunbull was enthusiastic about anything reflecting a "proper Mountie lifestyle" and had pestered Fraser about his upbringing. In typical Fraser fashion, he had humored the man and described dishes he had enjoyed as a child and in his various postings.

At first she had been annoyed, viewing the activity as childish and hero-worshipping, but the intelligence provided had proved valuable in the end.

There was some small talk as the meal was eaten but it had taken until she had provided pine needle tea after it all before he was sufficiently relaxed in her estimation.

Once that had been consumed, she invited him into the living room and placed him in her large recliner. She then retreated to the cabinet and withdrew two glasses. Opening the small freezer she took ice out and put it in the glasses.

She ensured he could watch her as she poured two glasses of Crown Royal, added bitters and lemon juice and stirred. Bringing the two glasses over, she deliberately placed one in front of him on a coaster she had left earlier while she herself moved to sit on the couch facing him, her own glass in her hand.

His relaxed ease had fled as she had prepared and served the drinks. She said with a smile, "Ben, this is a personal conversation. And while I am aware that you do not normally imbibe alcohol, in this case it would make me feel more comfortable if we both drank at least a little to help keep us relaxed. So while I am not attempting to get you drunk, I think you should feel free to at least sip it occasionally."

As she expected, his movements to retrieve the glass and drink showed none of the nervousness that might be expected if he was unused to any kind of drinking. Benton Fraser took pride in doing everything well, and that included social drinking as necessary.

Finally she said, "Now. As to the conversation …." She took a sip of her own drink and set it down. She then relaxed into the couch. "When I came to Chicago, I made every attempt to drive you to quit or transfer. Are you aware?"

Rather than act innocent, he decided for honesty. "That did seem to be the case."

"And do you know why I did so?" she asked. When he paused she said, "Feel free to be completely honest. I won't be offended by anything you say or any observations you wish to admit to." She was lightly amused as he took in that instruction.

After cracking his neck as he often did when he tried to hide nervousness he finally answered. "I got the distinct impression that you disliked my background."

She considered that. "It wasn't your background so much as your manner."

"Oh?" he asked.

She looked at him and said, "Your image was strictly honest and unfailingly polite. And while such a thing is appropriate when dealing with the average person you might run into in the North, it was far too rural compared to what I had come to expect from my peers when I was posted in Ottawa. You seemed to show a rube-like earnestness and a political naïveté that seemed _staggering_. This was the mean American city of Chicago and I thought your persona was ill-matched with the requirements of working in such an environment."

"I don't understand," he said.

She gave him a little stink eye – she was no longer falling for that. At his look where he showed a small amount of guilt at trying to get one over on her, she smiled. "To survive in diplomatic circles, you have to show a certain toughness. Chicago, despite being distant from Canada in several ways, is the hub for Canadian imports coming into the United States. Outside of Pittsburg, it could be considered the railroad capital of the United States. Our economic interests, I thought, couldn't survive a backwater rube proving our country innocent and unable to navigate the sometimes harsh world of international trade or the dismissive nature of the American attitude toward our country."

He considered that for a long moment. He then asked, "What changed?"

"I ran into your sheer stubbornness. And beyond that, I had a chance to overhear a completely random conversation on the street." At his interest she explained. "Americans have a tendency toward being jaded and cynical. However, I overheard a woman correcting a comment about something someone had seen you do. She claimed that she had heard from a friend who had heard from a family member that you were, in fact, completely as you appeared to be. And that her friend shouldn't be so cynical."

He considered that. "And how do I seem to be?"

"Honest, competent, unfailing in your sense of right and stubbornly adherent to your sense of proper civility: All in all, an impressive man who should be trusted implicitly because you would never fail to keep your word." She paused and continued. "You _are_ an impressive man. And your activities, while at times annoying, have proven to be a positive factor in how the Americans choose to view our people. But even with that, what caused me to stop trying to make you leave was something else."

"Oh?" he asked.

She nodded slightly. "Yes. One, overriding characteristic which must come from your character and not your training; it cannot be denied. And that characteristic is summed up with one word: Fidelity."

Fraser considered that for a long moment and then said, "'Nothing is more noble, nothing more venerable than fidelity. Faithfulness and truth are the most sacred excellences and endowments of the human mind.' Marcus Tillius Cicero."

She nodded in response. "I think that Cicero would have found you a worthy man. You truly embody much that he spoke of, that he tried to teach his fellow man in how to deal with the world."

At that Ben paused. And in a voice full of sincerity he said, "Thank you kindly."

She smiled at that. As she prepared to continue she reached forward and took her drink, taking a sip. At her act, Fraser also took a sip of his own drink and set it down.

At that she sat back, glass still in hand, and said, "I think that your original assessment of me was not so flattering." She said this with some humor.

He tried to hide his smile as he said, "Let us say that serving under your command initially proved to be … quite worrisome." He chuckled and said, "You seemed to have no love of my tendency to involve myself in the affairs of those around me."

"True," she said, raising her glass in salute. "You proved to be stubbornly abhorrent of 'going with the flow' if you will. Your activities tend to be loud and brash, and much attention is drawn because of that."

"I'm sorry if I provide too much trouble for you and your position." That he said this with amused irony showed that he was not offended.

"'Maintain the Right.' It's our motto and I can't fault you for following that in most everything you do." He nodded in acknowledgment. "Now. My background is quite a bit different. Do you know why I have attempted, at times far from successfully, to maintain a strict adherence to a professional and distant relationship?"

He considered that. "I would assume that it isn't just about regulations?"

"No," she replied with some pain leaking out. His face showed concern. "While I have attempted to maintain a strictly professional bearing, it cannot be argued that there are those people, long established, who have antiquated ideas about the place of a woman serving in the RCMP. And there are those who feel any woman subordinate can be used for their own personal gratification."

At that Fraser was horrified. "You don't mean …."

She immediately guessed his thoughts. "No. As far as my job, my … virtue ... has been maintained. Thought at times it has been very close. It came very close to requiring a formal complaint at one point in my career."

Ben considered that. "I had no idea. And there was no hint of any rumor."

She let go of the bitterness. "Let's say that I found an ally who was able to convince those with less than pure intentions that such behavior was unacceptable. There was retirement involved."

"I see," Ben said a bit stoically.

"Yes. Well, as a result, I resolved to be militantly proper about such things. And when I became the superior officer, I decided that I would never give even a hint of such attitudes toward any who served under me. I have never wanted those who followed my command to feel that they must treat me as anything other than a fellow RCMP officer. In that, I hope I have been successful."

Ben was admiring as he said, "Oh, yes. Of that I, and Turnbull as well, can attest to with perfect honesty."

She gave him a quick smile. With some amusement she said, "Of course that leads to the change involved with the incident on top of the train."

"Ah. Yes. The train." When he tried to return to his stoic properness, she gave him another look. Sheepishly he relaxed again, and took another sip of his drink.

"The train. I did not want to begin something which would compromise your integrity. And so I have been militantly indifferent – despite my own desires." He gave a quick smile at that. "But then this most recent incident occurred."

At that he was confused. "What do you mean?"

She smirked. "When we were confronted with each other, it had been quite painful to think that you had no memory of our … interactions. You were polite but not Mountie polite. Proper, but not Mountie proper. You had no memory of your life or position. And after thinking about it, I had a startling realization."

He looked at her for a long moment. "And what was that realization?"

"You, my dear Benton Fraser, are far less innocent than you want those around you to believe." Her face held a distinct impression of triumph.

Without giving too much away he said, "Oh?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes. That militant politeness, your ability to seem to be unaware of the reactions you create, your unfailing politeness. Stripped of your memories, you were shown to be a far different man. Just as observant in your own way, and still polite and helpful, but lacking all of those qualities which tend to drive the women around you crazy at your innocence. You, Ben, were shown to be what I think you try to hide: A normal man."

He attempted to put on an innocently confused expression, he really did. But finally he laughed. And this was not a polite chuckle. This was a full-blown belly laugh, showing great amusement.

She smirked and giggled in response. "I finally figured it out. Yes, you much prefer your home up north, but you are just like other men. And you, my friend, are greatly attracted to me. And I," she became a bit more serious, "am very attracted to you. And while I was unwilling to puncture that innocent and proper exterior when I thought that your entire nature, I find that I am willing to chance something for someone I now know to be just as able as I am to maintain proper decorum elsewhere – regardless of anything else."

He gave her a long look, gauging the truth of what she was saying. "What are you proposing?" he finally asked, a glint in his eye.

"Here," she motioned around her, "in this house, with no one else around, I think I would like to attempt the beginning a true relationship. Out there, in the world, we would have to maintain strict adherence to proper protocol and discipline." "But here and now," She looked at him with a heavy look. "I want you."

He gave her a long, long look. Finally he stood up, reaching for the glass as he did. He immediately took a long drink, pretty much draining the glass before he set it back on the coaster. He looked at her and said, "The bedroom is upstairs, I assume?" His face showed a lustful grin.

She drank down her own drink and then, after walking around the table, she jumped up on the tall man, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He immediately began walking toward the stairs.

Behind them, Diefenbaker whined, hiding his eyes under his paws.


End file.
